Acres of orchids

As I was planning my first-ever trip to the New York Botanical Garden, I fantasized about strolling down the paths in peace, soaking in the beauty of the surroundings and the warmth of the conservatory.  I would breathe deeply, be inspired to go forth and live an elegant life, and feel utterly rested after a perfect day.

Alas, my fantasy remained a fantasy.  Lesson learned: do not visit the NYBG on a weekend afternoon if you can possible help it.  The exhibit that drew me there, The Orchid Show, also lured hundreds and hundreds of fellow gawkers.  The orchids were exquisite; the visit, exhausting.

The grounds of the Garden are beautiful, and I look forward to a second visit once spring arrives in full force.  The Conservatory, which houses the Orchid Show and many other lovely plants, is also gorgeous.  I offer up photos of the blossoms, in hopes that you will feel inspired to go forth and live an elegant life.  I've left out the crowds of people.  You are welcome.

My heart belongs to Claude

When exploring a city, one always hopes to find that little place that only locals know about, and the tourists stay far away.

Patisserie Claude feels like that sort of shop.  Nothing fancy, just a few bare tables, and a small glass case of treasures.  My cousins helped me test out their offerings.

And for me, the best croissant I've tasted in the United States of America.  The drop-to-your-knees-and-thank-god kind of good.

For those traveling to NY in the near future, head straight to 187 West 4th Street, preferably before 10 am.  Leave extra time before your next appointment, as you'll go back for seconds and have to peel yourself off the ground a second time.

Dumpling = Delicious, Mandoo = Mashisoyo

I lived in South Korea for a year during the late 90s.  I gained about 15 pounds, in part because I found it depressing to live in a concrete city and my work was draining.  The other part due to an unexpected love affair with Korean cuisine. 

I don't understand why Americans love their Chinese food and sushi, but are almost entirely unfamiliar with Korean fare.  Before I moved to New York, I was occasionally able to find Korean restaurants, but they were almost always far away or were some watered-down version of the cuisine.  I am now in easy reach of an entire district of Korean food.  It's heavenly, especially on cold winter days.  Kimchi chigae, dolsot bibimbop and japchae are now in proximity whenever I have a craving.

When my two young cousins came through town this weekend and asked for an interesting place to eat, the choice was easy.  We met in K-Town (Koreatown) at Mandoo Bar, a sweet little place that specializes in dumplings of all sorts.  Their staff makes dumplings right at the entrance:

As you walk into the restaurant, you can see the various steps on the dumpling-making process.

Aren't they cute?

Later, the vat of oil (yummier than the steamed variation, a misfortune for the health conscious):

My cousins shared a plate of vegetarian dumplings.  I had some too, but first had steaming bowl of soon dubu chigae, or spicy tofu soup.

Yum.  If you eat this soup when you have a cold, it immediately goes away.  Now the dumplings:

The dumplings were unlike any I had seen (green for vegetarian?!) but they were delicious.

Aju mashisoyo!

 

G's sparkle

I spent time tonight with friends G. and M.  It is still a revelation that I can see certain long-time friends virtually anytime I want now, whereas it used to be perhaps once or twice a year.  Of course, in order to gain this privilege I've had to give up frequent rendezvous with my DC friends.  It would be nice if all of my people could live in one city together.  At least for awhile.

I was especially looking forward to seeing G, or more specifically, G's hand.  A couple months ago she mentioned to me that she and her boyfriend were planning to get engaged, but the ring had become a source of stress.  I can't solve the world's problems, but this issue is one I can help fix-- my sister works in the jewelry industry, and has a trusted jeweler she recommends to anyone looking for an engagement ring.  G wasn't sure at first, but in the end realized that the quality for the price was very fair, and she liked the jeweler.  And so, my sister and I helped to get this very dear woman engaged:

It was wonderful to see the smile on her face, the insane sparkle of the ring, and her sense of contentedness and calm.  It helped give me hope that perhaps someday, in this crazy city, I'll find a valentine of my own.  inshallah.

Black & White & Delicious

Upon moving to the East Coast several years ago, I had my first encounter with the Black & White Cookie.  I was immediately charmed by its boldly dichotomous appearance.  I loved it even more when I tasted one-- chocolate icing, vanilla icing, and a cake-like base.  Unlike any cookie I've ever had.  They are typically huge-- 4-5 inches across.  I've since seen them in NJ and DC, but to my knowledge they really haven't traveled very far west.  At least, not in very great numbers.

Black & Whites are difficult to avoid in this city.  They are to be found in delis, diners, grocery stores, Starbucks, cookie trays during catered lunches at work.

In addition to being delicious, they also cause a massive sugar rush.  

The room is spinning.

Golden Palace

I work in a ridiculously beautiful building.  Resplendent art deco designs everywhere, both outside and in.  At Christmas time it was particularly gorgeous, the interior lobby strung with white lights.  Unfortunately photography is not allowed inside, but I've sneaked a few shots in the foyers and also the elevator banks (shhh!).  It makes me happy to walk into the palace every morning.  Assateague Girl becomes Assateague Princess.

And finally, a scene that makes me smile every time I step into the elevator... superstition lives, even in big fancy skyscrapers:

Can you figure out what it is?

Magical Mystery Tour on the 6

Okay, ready for an adventure?  A long one?  I got a little carried away on my ride home tonight.  Over the past week I've become more and more aware of the mosaic tiles that announce each subway stop.  They're quite beautiful, and such care has been taken to create and mount them.  I decided to stop at each station and take a photo.  As often happens in NY, though, a simple lark becomes far more fun and interesting than originally imagined.

Start: Grand Central Station:

On the ride from 42 to 51st, I heard a mewing.  "meow meow meow" in a tiny little voice.  I looked around me and saw a young woman holding a mesh bag with a kitty that was no bigger than my hand.  "Her name is Georgia," she said to my inquiring look.  "I'm bringing her to the vet."  Another woman offered, "I took in a stray cat.  I thought she was fat.  But she was pregnant."  The door opened, and I got off.

Nothing too interesting.  Got on the train again and noticed a young balding man reading a book on the Alexander Technique.  Appropriately, he seemed very relaxed.

On to the next stop, 59th:

Nice to be serenaded by a jazz guitarist on a Monday night.

On to the next stop:

I spent much longer at 68th than I had planned.  So did everyone else.  The doors stayed open and open and open.  Finally: "There is a police investigation on 103rd.  All trains are on hold.  Please be patient".  No one said a word, just waited.  Every minute or so another person pealed off and decided to walk home.  Finally, 10 minutes later, a half-full train started again.  On to 77th:

Lovely west African music.  On to 86th...

Oh my!  Tile explosion.... 

Can I just say that I LOVE a city that sponsors such crazy art in public spaces?  I totally freaked out.  People rushed by.  Is there anyone that actually stops and looks at these miracles?  Each figure so tenderly crafted with tiny tiles.  Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.

Okay, on to the next stop- 96th....

And so the day, and the journey, is done.